


Good Will Toward All

by D_OShae



Category: Christmas Legends
Genre: Christmas, Gen, North Pole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 07:02:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17055350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D_OShae/pseuds/D_OShae
Summary: For centuries he labored alone as Father Christmas until one fateful Christmas Eve when he came upon a person too steeped in misery to leave alone. All legends begin somewhere, and herein lies the tale of how the story of Santa Claus grew.May peace be with you throughout the year.





	Good Will Toward All

In times past some parts of mankind seemed lost and without hope, one person held onto it so its light would not be forgotten. He took it upon himself to see that at least once a year children would know the feel of joy and peace during one day. It seemed obvious to the man the eve of Christmas a perfect time to fulfill his self-appointed charge. He worked with such diligence and purity his life got extended nearly beyond measure. While it all began in one small area, his mission would eventually extend to the world. One cause became for him the sole purpose for his selfless actions.

“Peace on Earth. Good will toward all!”

Many wonder as to what compelled Nikolaos in the beginning. Part of his story he kept to himself for himself. Many years before, centuries before the one that changed his life yet again, Nikolaos received the gift of love from a woman he cherished. She became his wife. Though poor and struggling, they discovered happiness in one another. This they shared with those around them without hesitation in whatever ways, great or small, they could. Within a few years Nikolaos’ beloved conceived a child. They rejoiced and made plans to shower their babe with the joy and love they found in life. Yet God made other plans. In the struggle to give birth, Nikolaos lost both his wife and newborn. Light seemed to go out from his life.

The God Nikolaos worshiped seemed to take pity on him. For all the days when the man and his wife spread joy to those around them, those same people came to him in his hour of need. They surrounded him with compassion and love, shared in his loss and misery, and in those seemingly dark days they sparked a light within Nikolaos. In all their meagerness and poverty, they gave to him a gift he could neither describe nor fully comprehend. It eased his sorrow. It dimmed his pain. He saw in them hope, and that hope bloomed in him. From that moment on Nikolaos decided to dedicate his remaining days to spreading hope and joy. It began small but quickly became the reason for his life. It took many, many forms, and each he gave so willingly it called unto him the grace of God. Despite his loss, Nikolaos felt blessed.

Nikolaos, once of Myra who came to be called The Kringla by others in the snowy north, became fable and legend despite being very real. Known to some as Father Christmas and more widely as Santa Claus, the names meant less to him than the duty he willingly shouldered. His labor of love carries a burden of the knowledge the message he embodies does not yet reside in all hearts. Nikolaos saw the need, saw the suffering, and yet his stout heart beat with such belief no burden could diminish the light shining within it. His cause drove him forward since he could not, cannot rest until all believe not in him, but in the principle upon which his life is founded. Long ago as he lived out his duty with single-minded purpose another responsibility came to him, and one he gladly took upon himself without a second thought as his love of all could turn none aside.

In the times when western Europe descended into chaos, called rightly by many The Dark Ages, Nikolaos saw the need for his work. Each year he labored making small oddments of whimsy he believed would make a child smile and forget the cares of the world if even for a moment. Long were his days of crafting, but his fingers were nimble and his mission plain. Toy after toy was carved as much from his heart as from the wood he collected in the forests. Bright colors he chose to adorn his trinkets to drive aside a bit of the darkness from the lives of children. Nikolaos was ever mindful that his duty was not just to children: his duty was to all regardless of age. Those who had grown past the years when their belief in him was pure and simple still held a place in his heart. Nikolaos forgot no one. When toys were no longer sufficient, he visited the chambers of those fast asleep and gave them the gift of fitful slumber for one night. Since his memory is long, as long as his years, Nikolaos took note of the faces of those gone missing. Moreover, the darkness of the land and the minds of the people made his eyesight more keen since he viewed the world not through his eyes but through his soul. Because his vision saw humankind differently, he could look into the hearts of others and see what lay inside.

Some six hundred years before he saw a small part of his creed take form in the Magna Charta, Nikolaos sped along through his single night with eyes and heart wide open. From hamlet to village, town to city, he darted along delivering his gifts to young and old alike. He possessed neither sleigh nor reindeer yet, and the North Wind he befriended carried him aloft from rooftop to rooftop. Time held no consequence, and a lone night turned into a year for him: a year in which he felt no need of sleep and did not tire in limb or body. He gave warmth to those without shelter so they might find a night of comfortable rest. He left small gifts of food to those who hungered so the thought would be driven from them for a short while. He left toys for children so they might smile with joy despite the harshness of their lives. Nikolaos gave selflessly, and in the giving received renewal. He asked for no reward. He begged no favors. He even eschewed recognition for his deeds. Verily, Nikolaos wished none knew of his toils in the hope all would think the kindness came for the sake of kindness as an example to be followed. Night, snow, fog, or rain could not cloud his sight, and see he did.

On a bitterly cold night early in the seventh century, Nikolaos spied a very young man huddled against a crude barn made of rough logs and earth in a seemingly nameless village at the feet of mountains. While Nikolaos made allies of the northern winds, others fared poorly where he thrived. Nikolaos saw the young man, not even a full two decades under his bare feet, and pity swept through him. He knew the person slowly froze and would die without heat or shelter. Nikolaos saw it too many times when he arrived too late to give the gift of warmth. His burden grew. Moved as he was by his care for all, Nikolaos dropped quietly down from a rooftop and slowly drew near to the young man. The touch of cold ran deep within the form huddled in little more than rags. Nikolaos bade the cold and the winds to stay their hands as he lifted his own. He placed his hand on the frigid cheek, and the heat of his life radiated outward. Death got held at bay that night. The young man’s eyes gradually fluttered open, and he looked about in bewilderment. Nikolaos met his gaze, and kindness spilled from his gray-blue eyes. The young man smiled haltingly, and then glanced away.

“How came you to be alone and without a roof or fire on this night?” Nikolaos asked.

The young man did not answer.

“I know you,” Nikolaos whispered into the icy silence.

The young man shifted his eyes upward. Nikolaos saw despair and fear.

“You were a happy child once,” Nikolaos said, and his concern added more warmth to the hand that still rested on the cheek. “You are far from the place you once called home. How came you to these mountains?”

“I am not wanted,” the young man replied in a timid voice. “Leave me be.”

“That is not within my power,” Nikolaos soothingly replied.

The young man gazed at him once more, but fear was replaced with confusion.

Nikolaos neatly folded his legs and sat upon the ground. He first arranged his long red woolen cloak trimmed with fleece. The sturdy black leather boots on his feet served as a cushion. He clasped the dirt-encrusted fingers of the young man so that the fire of his heart would continue to give relief from the cold. Nikolaos gazed in worry at the sallow face. His burden draped over him like the crimson mantle about his shoulders.

“Is there no happiness for you anywhere this night?” Nikolaos asked.

The poor soul cast his gaze to the ground and did not answer. Nikolaos looked into the young man and found nothing but grief and unrelenting sorrow. It tore at his heart. With his free hand, he reached into the sack slung on his back and pulled forth a napkin tied up at the ends. Inside the folds of the material he knew there rested a hard roll, some ripe berries and flavorful nuts. This he handed to the young man, but the gift remained untaken. Nikolaos turned over the hand in his own and placed the parcel squarely in the palm. He then curled the dirty fingers around it, but did not release the hand.

“This is your gift,” Nikolaos said in a kind voice. “Were it I had more to offer, but there are so many to whom I must attend.”

The young man lifted his face. His mouth went slack, he stared in wonder, and he whispered: “Pere Noel?”

A small smile creased Nikolaos' mouth and his eyes twinkled like the stars. He knew the name and that some called him by it. In speaking the name, Nikolaos saw a happier childhood return to the heart of the young man. For a brief moment, the grief and sorrow retreated.

“I can see no wrong in you, Bonar,” Nikolaos told the young man, his long memory serving him well.

The young man’s eyes widened in awe when he heard his name spoken.

“Have peace this night. You are beloved of God, as are all His children.”

Nikolaos then stood with the same ease with which he sat. He let go of the hand knowing the young man would live that night. The blustery winds did not touch the flesh of either person. Nikolaos smiled once more, winked as he nodded his head, and then called upon his ethereal friend to carry him away to finish his task. He rose up and out view of the young man, and went to his duty.

The plight of the young man did not leave Nikolaos throughout his sojourn. The deep sadness and few words spoken troubled the man. That Bonar could claim to be unwanted did not sit well with the man who sought to spread some mote of joy wherever he could. Nikolaos saw no wrong in the young man. Evil did not live in Bonar. Gentle and kind in spirit as boy, yet somehow he had become disenchanted with the world. Nikolaos wondered how and why Bonar got so far removed from Avignon to a country where none spoke his language. While unusual for him to take such personal interest in a single individual, he could not forget Bonar, indeed, once lived as a very happy child despite the meagerness of his life.

Nikolaos continued to ponder throughout his travels the circumstances of the young man’s condition. Misery he saw aplenty in the past, and still the particular example which he witnessed lingered. It seemed unimaginable why a good person who never brought suffering to others should find himself in such terrible straights. Nikolaos thought and thought upon the matter. When he at last emptied his sack, he did not turn to the north to go home and bring the magical night to a close. Nikolaos returned instead to the feet of the Steppes. He found Bonar still huddled against the barn, the gift of food untouched.

Nikolaos stood off at a distance, unnoticed, and observed the young man. Bonar sat on the frozen ground with his arms wrapped around his legs. Nikolaos knew he could not be cold, but a different chill seemed clad about the slight figure. The pitiful image squeezed at Nikolaos' heart, and he could tolerate it no longer. He approached as silent as a cat until he stood next to Bonar. The young man did not lift his head. Nikolaos crossed his legs and sat once more as previously.

“What besets you, Bonar?” The bringer of Christmas joy asked.

The young man violently started at the sound of the voice. Nikolaos smiled a small apology. Bonar sat in amazement once more. The dirty, threadbare rags he wore as clothes barely ruffled in the winter wind, kept at bay by command of Nikolaos.

“Can it be that even I cannot bring you one night’s worth of happiness?” Nikolaos inquired, sadness tainting his words.

“I am thankful, Pere Noel,” Bonar whispered and held up the untouched parcel of food.

“You are, but it was your all too brief smile I counted as my reward… and too brief it was,” Nikolaos said in his lilting, rolling tenor voice. He would employ all the powers at his command to make the young man smile yet again.

Bonar would not meet Nikolaos’ gaze.

“Is there some gift I have not thought of which I can bring to you to return the smile?”

The wretched person neither spoke nor moved.

“Why are you not with your family and loved ones in your home?” Nikolaos pressed on, fearing he would yet again receive no response.

“I am not wanted,” Bonar repeated what he first said that evening.

“Everyone is wanted, for that is the plan of God,” Nikolaos told Bonar with complete certainty.

“Even God does not want me,” the young man said, and a tiny sob followed in the wake of the statement.

Nikolaos felt crestfallen. Although the Almighty never addressed him directly, Nikolaos stayed convinced he worked through the grace of Him. Bonar’s reply proved the most troubling yet, knowing as Nikolaos did the devoutness of the young man.

“Then why did God guide me to you that I may give you your gift?” Nikolaos queried solemnly.

Bonar turned his head slightly, and Nikolaos saw the glitter of tears in the sorrowful eyes. His heart ached to see the sight. The two sat mute for a span of time.

“God has made me one of His damned.”

“You are yet His child, Bonar. God has not damned you, and it is best to wait for His pronouncement.”

Bonar lapsed into impenetrable silence again.

“I see no wrong in you,” Nikolaos told the young man for a second time. “If there was evil within you, my hand would not have found a gift for you.”

Nikolaos did not enjoy making that admission. On too many occasions during the night his hand came up empty, and he could only offer a prayer for peace as a gift. Nikolaos stolidly refused to deny any person a gift regardless of how loathsome they acted in life. Corruption and hatred, he knew, could not be answered with the same.

“Leave me be,” Bonar said after a considerable length of time had passed in the night held firm.

“That is one gift I cannot give,” Nikolaos rejoined resolutely.

“You cannot save me.”

“Perhaps that is true, but I cannot leave you lost.”

“There is nothing you can do for me,” Bonar protested.

“Ah!” Nikolaos said loudly. “I am Pere Noel, and there is much I can do for you!”

Bonar raised his eyes in surprise as the voice boomed through the night. Nikolaos stood quickly. His crimson robes swirled around his legs. The ends of the black sash cinched at his waist danced merrily in the cold winds. His gray-blue eyes flashed with an inner light. Nikolaos possessed one gift he held for the entire world, and this he would share bountifully with Bonar. Nikolaos bore a hope that would not die. He reached out with a hand.

“Come, Bonar. Honor me this night by allowing me to give you a hot meal, clean clothes and warm bed where you can lay aside your troubles even for a short while.”

Bonar stared at the man dressed head-to-toe in scarlet. The trim around the hems looked smudged with grime, and still the white seemed untouched. The end of the red cap wrapped about the neck, serving as a scarf. Bonar gazed at the figure. The outstretched arm did not quaver. Bonar hesitated.

“I can only give, my child. You must be willing to receive,” Nikolaos quietly told him.

He personified patience. Nikolaos stood refusing to retract his offer. He knew as long as he remained outside the confines of his home, the night would not end. Thus, Nikolaos knew he could wait out Bonar’s reluctance. While he held in his posture, Nikolaos thought of those who would wake and find some measure of happiness to last throughout the day. He smiled a private smile thinking of the children who would discover a tiny item to call their own. Nikolaos wanted joy to take hold, and would not let the night end until he could be certain Bonar would receive his fair share. He did not feel burdened: it came as Nikolaos' duty.

When a trembling hand finally took hold of his, Nikolaos smiled even more broadly. A booming laugh issued from him and reverberated through the chilly air. Bonar flinched at the sound, but Nikolaos securely wrapped his fingers around the starved, thin hand. With gentle strength born of his loving spirit, he lifted the young man to his feet. It only took a scant moment before the empty sack dangling on his back got placed over the bony shoulders. Nikolaos knew Bonar would not need it so long as they remained in contact, yet he understood it would lend a sense of comfort. Nikolaos leaned in close to the frail form and winked once.

“Let us be away so the morrow may arrive,” Nikolaos said with a chuckle. “Hold close to me, Bonar, and my friend shall bear us homeward.”

The North Wind swirled as Nikolaos petitioned for favor. Snow billowed around their feet in response. It did not bite into the flesh. The two swiftly rose into the air. Bonar clutched the arm as well as the hand of Nikolaos. Their direction angled once, and they then soared northward by northeast. Along the way, over each settlement, Nikolaos found his voice.

“Peace be unto all the Earth! Good will to everyone!”

Nikolaos called out time after time after time. He seemed never to tire at speaking the words. The winds held the duo aloft without fail and sped them quickly away. Bonar’s head swiveled wildly as he sought to survey the land speeding underneath. The leagues came like steps to Nikolaos, and so thoroughly did he know the terrain he identified every hamlet along the way. His mission for the year done, the next just began. Much awaited him in making preparations for the succeeding visit. Joy coursed through him. It wafted from his form like the snow dancing from the sky. Onward they traveled while Nikolaos spread his cheer for the season far and wide.

“Merry Christmas!” Nikolaos said in a mighty voice as the last village approached and disappeared behind them.

Bonar stayed silent for the duration of the trip. He did not know the lands beneath their feet, yet Nikolaos appeared confident of his direction. As they flew along, the dark night began to give way to gray. The pale sun stretched as best it could so far north, and reached for the horizon. Vast stretches of forest and tundra dappled the ground. All lay covered in pearly white. The tops of trees seemed near enough to tickle their toes, but never once did branches or boughs catch them. When the first rays of the morning sun turned the eastern edge of the world from gray to pink, Nikolaos received his gift. He knew the people woke and found the gifts of food and toys or discovering themselves better rested than usual. He did all within his power, and he smiled as he gave silent thanks for his abilities. Unlike the previous years, Nikolaos felt his gift would continue since he brought with him company for the holy day; the first he shared in countless years.

The grip on his arm tightened when Nikolaos began the descent. The last northern patch of trees arrived where his home nestled secretly within the towering and wide pines. Nikolaos learned how to build and bank a fire so no trace of smoke could be seen in the unlikely event a stranger might pass by. He aimed for the alcove obscuring his home from view. It took nary but a few seconds before he and his foundling touched down lightly upon the snow. Their feet sank into the ivory powder, yet no cold assailed their ankles. The North Wind whipped and whirled and whistled as it pranced away to play over the frozen expanse. Nikolaos thanked it cheerfully for the service and bade it to come again one year hence.

Now with his home at hand, the powers commanded by the spirit of the season waned. He became as any other mortal man save that which preserved his life and advanced his cause and craft. With Bonar still clutching his arm, Nikolaos skipped merrily toward his house resting indistinguishable from the bowers hanging overheard. The young man followed along, kicking up small billows of snow as his feet sought purchase on the frozen ground. Nikolaos let him neither fall nor slip, and guided him steadily to the spot that appeared more of a hummock than house. Nikolaos led him straight to the oval door painted like earth and iced over with snow.

“Home,” Nikolaos said in a hush. “Here we will find food and warmth. Here you are wanted.”

Bonar let loose with a small gasp when Nikolaos pushed open the door. Even from the front portal, a home ample and spacious, dry and secure awaited. A welcoming yellow light slipped out and mingled with the growing light of the sun. A large, low hearth filling nearly the entire stretch of one wall glowed with red embers. The heat that radiated outward invited them to enter. Nikolaos grinned at his home, pleased to have returned after a successful night of travel. He hauled the bewildered young man, still dressed with the empty carry sack, into the demesne. Once safely ensconced indoors, Nikolaos waved his hand. The door flew closed of it own accord. Hat, robe and sash spun from his body and leapt to the peg, leaving Nikolaos dressed in green leather breeches with suspenders and harness, and a brown billowing shirt covered over with a green jerkin. Long strands of russet-colored hair, streaked through with white, tumbled from his head and splayed out over his neck and shoulders.

The interior of the house sprang to life with the return of the master. Candles guttered once, snapped into flame, and added more light. Stream began to whistle from some unseen kettle. The fire in the hearth twitched as the embers spilled more light and warmth into the cavernous house. Bonar stood watching in silent wonder as the home greeted its occupant with boundless joy. Nikolaos chuckled happily as he strolled through and into the sitting room, arms stretched wide as if to embrace the furnishings. He spun once, twice and thrice before coming to a halt and facing Bonar.

“Me thinks for you a bath will do to wash away sadness and stain,” Nikolaos said as though he were singing. “A feast! A feast to follow to ease the sorrow and bid sweet slumber to our eyes!”

Bonar stood rooted in place watching Nikolaos. When he failed to move in a timely manner, Nikolaos waved his hand again. The sack adorning Bonar’s shoulders twirled as though caught by wind and took a peg for its own. Nikolaos skipped lightly to Bonar, seized a hand, and tugged until the young man took tentative steps forward. Once underway, Nikolaos led him through a seeming maze of hallways and rooms paneled with rich wood shining from loving attention. The sheen of the walls reflected light in every direction so no single space went wanting for illumination. The house lit with a spirit of its own. Having lost all sense of direction, Bonar thumped into Nikolaos' back when he came to a sudden stop. The room in which he found himself felt as humid as a summer by the sea. The air rose thick with the scent of flowers that did not bloom in the region, along with the ever-present aroma of pine. Before him hunkered a large trough wherein water swirled and steamed. It replenished itself in some unknown manner. Bonar looked longingly at it.

“Strip yourself of these old garments,” Nikolaos said quietly. “Take your leisure and what comfort you can find in the bath. I will return with sheets to dry yourself and clothes suitable for these climes when you have properly soaked yourself into a wrinkled fig!”

A moment later, Bonar got left on his own with the chiming laugh of Nikolaos ringing through the halls. His hands shook as he shed the decrepit wrappings that served as his clothing. The stench of countless months spent wandering through the world, lost and alone, wafted into his nostrils. It arrived a sour smell, and it smelled more than physical. Naked but coated with the grime of his wayward life, Bonar stepped up to the immense trough. The stream rose to meet him, and called to him in a persuasive fashion. How the water warmed itself went beyond Bonar’s understanding, but the feel of it against his skin removed all hesitancy. He slipped into the tub and submerged himself. The foulness clinging to his flesh loosened, formed a dirty cloud, and floated away. Heat penetrated his tired muscles, and the cold leeched from his bones. Bonar found comfort that morning in the home of a man who all knew to be legend and myth. For a brief spell, he let his troubles wash away with the soil removed from his body.

That day and evening Bonar took refuge with Nikolaos. He wore clothes nearly as good as new. They proved protective and snug and warm. Nikolaos served him a banquet, at least to his eyes, of porridge made from grains and nuts. Berries and fruits Bonar never saw before mounded in bowls, and the bright colors tempted him sorely. Bread, butter and cheeses waited in ample supply. Milk heavy with cream flowed without end. Nikolaos exhorted him to eat his fill. If Bonar hesitated, Nikolaos urged without pause. Throughout the holiday feast, Bonar spoke not a word. In the space of his silence, Nikolaos regaled him with tales of his adventures during the hallowed eve. His laughter vied with bounty of the feast. By the end of the meal, although his eyelids grew leaden, Bonar found a tiny smile took refuge on his mouth.

The man sitting across the wide table from him exuded a pure and simple joy that infused everything, including the somber young man. When the meal ended and Bonar could not force another morsel down his gullet, Nikolaos trundled him off to a sleeping chamber. He got led to a spacious room. Like most rooms, a cheery fire glowed in a low and wide hearth, banked perfectly, and the heat it issued brought steady comfort. A bed of unbelievable proportions awaited him. Nikolaos prodded and pushed the young man toward it. A quilt of vibrant patches of color covered over a pile of blankets. Plump, round pillows bulged happily at one end. When Bonar crawled under the covers, he found the mattress stuffed with fragrant rushes and feathers. It enveloped his body like a mother’s embrace. Sleep pounced on Bonar even before Nikolaos finished tucking in the edges of the bedding around his body.

The heart that gives freely without expectation of return formed the magic giving life to Nikolaos' realm. When Bonar awoke the next day, fully prepared to be deposited into his miserable existence once again, he learned something more about the man. Nikolaos went about his life, talking merrily to things both animate and inanimate as though in a lively conversation, and acted as though Bonar’s presence seemed a natural element of his world. The day passed, and then another. Bonar said little as he began to follow along behind Nikolaos. He saw the great storerooms where wood and tools waited. He saw chambers almost too numerous to count packed with shelves. The trestles stood empty, yet that alone seemed the only unnatural part of the house. Whenever nearby, Nikolaos chatted and seemed not to notice the sparse response. The home stayed warm. The meals remained generous. The nights proved deep and soulful with refreshing sleep. The days stretched on until a more than a passed. Through it all, Bonar remained puzzled. At last he broke his continued silence.

“Pere Noel,” he quietly said during an evening meal. “When are you to return me to the mountains?”

“The time is not of my choosing,” Nikolaos replied and winked.

Bonar stared, confusion playing on his face.

“Then I am to be kept here?” He asked when he could think of nothing else.

“You may keep yourself here as long as you desire. This is where I choose to keep myself, and it is place I desire greatly,” the man in green rejoined through a sly grin.

Bonar sat back in his chair and stared at his plate. The roasted tuber with butter and clotted cream returned the gaze through its many eyes. Bewilderment tumbled through the young man.

“You spoke wrongly in saying you were not wanted,” Nikolaos continued. “The house delights in having you. The room wherein you rest your head claims you for its own. Can you not hear the song its sings when it cradles you in its bosom?”

Bonar’s eyes went wide. He dreamed of song every night since his arrival. He heard old songs and sung in a language he understood. They lulled him into a land of pleasing and sweet dreams.

“I have heard songs in my dreams, and thought them remembrances of my mother,” Bonar confessed in a whisper.

“That they may be for the room and bed have come to know you, child,” Nikolaos said reverently and with utter conviction.

Bonar believed the man.

“Then I am to stay?”

“If that is what you wish.”

Bonar’s brow wrinkled in consternation. A lone thought crossed his mind, and he spoke it aloud: “But I have nothing to offer to provide my keep.”

“Ah!” Nikolaos loudly said, and it rang throughout the room. “Your gentle soul is a gift to this house, to me, beyond price. We have already been well paid in great measure that places us in your debt.”

“But I have done nothing!” Bonar contested.

“Nothing, says you?” Nikolaos queried in plain disbelief. “Nothing he says! To give one cause to care for another, to remind us of our duty to all mankind… this is very much something, Bonar! Here within our humble midst sits the reason for what we must do, and you say this is nothing? Do not look with your eyes, my child, but with your heart. See the gladness you bring. See the joy that lends strength because you are here.”

The words held power. Bonar felt them as much as his ears heard. His throat constricted. A single tear rolled down his cheek. That he sat with this man could hardly be believed: that he heard what he did waxed inconceivable.

“Think on the matter as you will,” Nikolaos told him in a soothing voice. “None will gainsay what you choose. There is welcome here enough for you that cannot be worn through. Take what comfort you can and know it is shared.”

Bonar did think on the matter. While the days continued to pass, his mind tumbled over the reasons why Nikolaos found him where he did. Bonar kept a secret he feared to share. At times it darkened his mood and made him less apt to speak, although Nikolaos talked away without appearing to notice. Bonar also decided he needed to lend whatever assistance he could in the upkeep of the home. He took to wandering out in the wilds with Nikolaos. Their sojourns served a single purpose: they collected wood. Limbs stout and sturdy that fell on their own they rounded up and hauled back to the house. During each expedition, Nikolaos taught Bonar which trees were which, and the color of the wood found within. The greater branches they hewed into manageable sizes, stripped of smaller limbs, and then stored in the rafters of the numerous rooms.

When the sun would set and the evening meal finished, Nikolaos would sit before the enormous hearth in the great room, knives arranged about him, and he would carve. Bonar watched him in rapt awe as the man deftly and skillfully crafted new toys. Figures of animals and people got born out of the wood as if they rested there waiting to be discovered. While Nikolaos worked, he spoke in an endless flow. He explained how he carved and saw the toys trapped within the wood. The forest, he firmly stated, offered the gifts it knew it held. Nikolaos said he never took from the trees what they did not freely give. Time and again Bonar sat astounded by the precision and speed with which Nikolaos worked. Each night he produced an armload of toys that he carefully placed on the shelves in the great storerooms. The days gradually became meaningless to Bonar as he learned and studied the ways of Nikolaos. The winter held fast and hard for many weeks, but it went unnoticed in the house.

“Can you now see the shapes hiding in the wood?” Nikolaos asked Bonar one night after sculpting a plentiful number of toys.

“I think they still hide from me,” Bonar all but whispered.

“Perhaps it is because you have not touched the wood and asked it to reveal its secrets.”

Bonar understood the desire to keep secrets. He could not fault the wood for wanting to hold onto its own. The young man did not know how to prepare when Nikolaos loaded his lap with pieces of wood and carving knives. He timidly looked down at the implements.

“Remember,” Nikolaos said with a wink, “the blades care little between wood and flesh. Always draw the knives away from you.”

It proved the only instruction Bonar received. Nikolaos returned to his own piece, sliced away bits, and chatted happily about a new cart design he saw in a village. He stated he found himself of the mind to tell the wood the times changed, but that it always seemed to already know.

After sitting for quite a while with the tools in his lap, Bonar tentatively took hold of a branch and a long, curved knife. He watched Nikolaos strip the bark often enough that he believed he understood the process. The rough outer covering pealed away with ease. Bonar realized the need to work cautiously lest he slice himself grievously. With the bark removed, the young man stared at the wood. He tried to see the shapes inside of it, as Nikolaos appeared to do without effort. The piece looked smooth and yellow-white, except for the spots where twigs once grew. Bonar glanced at the knife in his hand and decided the blade too long to use appropriately. He switched it out for another. All the while he peered at the wood and prayed he could see whatever toy was nestled within. When nothing came to mind, Bonar experimented with a few cuts. He watched as the grain emerged, but he could not spy any pattern immediately. He sliced again. He looked again. He did not see the toy hiding inside. Bonar sighed.

“Please?” Nikolaos asked and held out his hand.

Bonar delivered the piece of wood. Nikolaos instantly held it before his face and stared with intensity. He began to mumble, but Bonar could make no sense of the words.

“There!” Nikolaos said in a deeply satisfied manner, and returned to limb to Bonar. “I have told it you are not prizing the secret out it for your own needs, but for a child with greater need. There are times when the wood can be parsimonious.”

Bonar gazed at Nikolaos. He saw with his own eyes the power of the man, and it kept him from suspecting Nikolaos of being soft in the head. Bonar shifted his gaze to the wood, arched his eyebrows, and began to cut again. Slivers of wood slipped easily away from the branch. Slowly, ever so slowly, Bonar did begin to think he saw an image. The spirals of the grain reminded him of the great fish he once saw in the ocean: large, rounded, and spouted water from its back. Although very young at the time, the image never left his imagination. Bonar did not feel as though he directed the actions of the blade. He carved along the grain drawing out a rounded aspect. He saw where the hump needed to slope downward toward the wide fluke at the base of the tail. The going proved painstakingly slow, yet Bonar persisted. Hours drifted by as he whittled away the unnecessary scrap. What emerged looked something like he remembered, but not perfectly in Bonar’s eyes. As it came near to completion, as best as he could make it, he heard a tiny whistle.

“One of giants of the sea,” Nikolaos said following the whistle. “I, too, have marveled at the great beasts. Perhaps it was the snow that told the tree about the creature, and the limb made it a secret!”

Bonar felt predisposed to accept the explanation. He did not thought there a whale hid in the branch, but there it sat in his hand. The young man grinned, wondering what the receiving child would think of it on Christmas morning.

“Ah!” Nikolaos mumbled through a laugh. “Now the wood will know what you seek is not for yourself!”

“I do not understand, Pere Noel,” Bonar said, startled by the exclamations.

“All the world could have spied the smile I saw on your lips. It was the smile of child looking with joy at a great wonder. Christmas morn will be gladdened because your hand touched it through the toy. Good will has come tenfold in that treasure!”

Bonar did see the joy in the figure. It stemmed from his own memory, of a time when all he beheld seemed exciting and pleasant. The wide sea from his distant past inspired him, and the great fish still held him in awe. He grinned again at his crude effort, but he loved it all the same. Bonar heard Nikolaos chuckle. Bonar felt at peace.

“We receive in the giving of ourselves, my child,” Nikolaos said softly. “What comes from the heart cannot perish. Long after the toy has seen its final day, the child will remember as though no time has passed. Our salvation lies in that simple joy. It is the hope of mankind.”

If Nikolaos sought to teach him a profound lesson, then Bonar knew the man admirably succeeded. He bent to his task of perfecting the figure. It gradually became more elegant in its line and design. It did not matter to him that the piece lacked the craftsmanship Nikolaos could produce: it only mattered that a child would know happiness, even for a small moment, on Christmas morning. When he finished with what he could do with the piece, Bonar set it down on the floor and retrieved another chunk of wood. He thought of the sea and the white birds that floated serenely on the ocean breezes. Bonar became convinced a gull lay trapped in the wood and yearned to be free. The knife in his hand worked with the single determination to let the creature stretch its wings in flight. The wood agreed. The bird came to life before his eyes.

“Ah! Mein helfer, zehr gut!” Nikolaos said in a strange tongue Bonar heard before, and the words bubbled with an infectious mirth.

Nikolaos took the unfinished bird. He held it up, and it appeared to be flying. The chuckling from the man grew deep and thoughtful. Nikolaos grinned like a child as he made the gull in his hand dip and dive on imaginary air currents. Bonar could see it take flight over blue waters.

“How beautiful! The men of the sea revere these birds; for when they are in the sky, land is near. One is never lost on the oceans when the gulls are on wing! I know the very child who will prize this above any gift. It will remind her of her papa!”

Bonar’s face split into a smile long a foreigner to his face. His heart filled and old troubles seemed distant. He witnessed the power Nikolaos possessed and bathed in its glow. Bonar believed in the man’s ability to see the greatest need for good and the fearlessness displayed in delivering it. Bonar heard a song in his mind, and he hummed along with it. Nikolaos joined in. They sat in the great room singing a wordless tune. They worked late into the night. Slow though his output appeared, Nikolaos reminded Bonar that the wishes of children he did not know already got fulfilled. Bonar went to his room humming the song begun many hours before. As he lay down and closed his eyes, he heard the room join the chorus. A sleep came over Bonar the likes of which he never knew. His spirit rested in calm and peace.

If Bonar’s quiet demeanor disturbed Nikolaos, the man never displayed it. Nikolaos possessed words enough for them both. The sound of the voice turned into a source of comfort for Bonar. It marked time in a unique manner. In the morning the man spoke energetically, greeting the day with boundless vigor. Nikolaos accompanied the forays into the forest with a verbal rhythm that made the treks effortless. As they prepared meals, Nikolaos' statements clanged and thumped like bowls and pots. In the evening, as they crafted toys, Nikolaos' voice slipped through the air much like the knives through wood. In the late hours, words gave way to humming. The people and the house alike joined in the song. They routinely sent themselves to bed on peaceful tune.

Spring came, but not any spring which Bonar recalled. The cold grew less intense. The hard-packed snow seemed reluctant to leave, and only retreated until it hid safe under the shadows of the trees. The air always remained chill, yet Bonar paid it less and less heed. A warmth built in him that kept the frigid nights from burrowing to his bones. His cheeks and nose often looked ruddy from spending long hours gathering timber to fashion toys. The skin on face and hands darkened when kissed by the sun. The young man grew hale and hearty, nourished by the constant care of Nikolaos and his house. Only at sunset did Bonar remembered why the man found him so far from Avignon. Secrets nestled within him no amount of talking, Nikolaos' preferred tool, could reveal. Nikolaos never questioned him directly, and accepted Bonar each day as if discovering a new friendship to be cherished.

In the weeks and weeks following his arrival, Bonar began to create toys with a skill bordering on Nikolaos'. He worked nearly as fast. While astounded by the skill he never knew he possessed, he found greater wonder in the memories the activity evoked. All the things that once held him in a thrall during childhood returned to his mind. Bonar wanted nothing more than to share the feeling with an unknown child. In this way did the young man begin learn something more of life as it returned to the cold north following a deep winter. Spring eventually gave way to what could be called summer in name only. The South Wind as the last of the North Wind scurried off. With it came a shift in their routine.

“Does this bring to mind Father Christmas?” Nikolaos asked one morning when he stepped into the great room.

Bonar did not recognize the man. He dressed in ragged clothing, stooped in the shoulder, and appeared every bit an old peasant. The disguise seemed flawless.

“Why are you clothed so, Pere Noel?” Bonar inquired in confusion.

“I must take one of the strong stag reindeer, and the South Wind will carry us, to a village where I may procure fresh staples,” Nikolaos informed him.

“But we have no money!” Bonar stated in alarm.

“Not all the world turns on gold, my child. There are those who remember the goodness of Christmas morning and would not send away an old man wanting. But I also have small trinkets to make in exchange if needs be.”

“Pere Noel, is it right to deceive others like this?” The young man questioned. He looked down at his own brown leather pants, the tawny shirt made of rough-woven wool, and the sturdy black boots Nikolaos presented him before one of their treks into the woods.

“Ah!” Nikolaos' voice rang out. “Trust there are those who can see through such a thin veil. They see with their hearts, and with their hearts they give. It is the same as when you spend evening time making toys, Bonar. The reward does not come from having a pfennig pressed into your palm!”

Bonar nodded his head. He truly began to understand the real reward of their craft and mission. The young man never wanted payment for his toys.

“Now, mein helfer, come with me. It is time for you to meet new friends,” Nikolaos told him, and walked with steady steps to the door and belied the decrepit form he presented.

Bonar followed along behind the camouflaged legend. They walked for a ways before coming to a halt amid another clearing in the trees. Nikolaos raised his hands to his mouth and issued a series of grunting noises. A few moments later, he repeated the call. Nikolaos and Bonar then stood silently, waiting. Several long minutes passed before either of them heard the soft crunching sound of hard-packed snow giving way under hoof. With great care and even greater caution, the head of a large stag peered from around a tree. Bonar gazed in amazement at the size of the antler rack on the creature’s head. Nikolaos chuckled deep and low in his throat.

“We have a new friend,” he said quietly, but his voice seemed to carry well in the crisp summer air. The reindeer peered at the man. “He is Bonar, and he is as gentle as a yearling.”

The reindeer took two hesitant steps forward, revealing a broad chest. Bonar could not hide his appreciation for the fine specimen standing off at a distance. He slowly turned his head and looked at Nikolaos. Nikolaos winked once.

“He’s beautiful,” Bonar whispered.

The stag stamped a hoof once.

“You play to his vanity, and that is not a bad thing,” Nikolaos said with a snicker.

“Pere Noel, I am sincere,” Bonar replied plaintively. “He is marvelous. I have never seen his like before!”

The reindeer lifted its head and sent out a whistling noise, followed quickly by guttural snorts. It seemed to stand with burgeoning pride. The two men watched as the animal walked confidently forward. Bonar could see the eyes flicking back and forth: vanity did not overcome caution. The stag came to a standstill just out of arm’s reach.

The awe and majesty of the reindeer made Bonar speechless.

“He is a fine one, indeed,” Nikolaos said in a light voice. He then bowed. “My thanks for answering the call.”

The reindeer nickered and tossed his head upward.

“Yes, we shall ride the wind, my friend! The South Wind is playful today, and we shall have much sport with it!”

The stag snorted many times. It sounded to Bonar as if the animal laughed in delight. Nikolaos chuckled again and sounded as excited as the creature. The unique affinity between the two seemed readily apparent. The reindeer trotted up to Nikolaos and butted the man with its nose. Nikolaos rubbed the jaw of the animal with an unmistakable affection and tenderness. Bonar felt his throat grow tight while watching the display.

“You are grand,” Nikolaos said quietly, “and it does me well to see you so hale.”

The reindeer responded by leaning firmly into the caress.

“We shall return with the morning sun, Bonar,” Nikolaos stated without looking away from the reindeer. “Keep to the house, my child, as some friends do not know yet that you are not to be eaten.”

The warning shook Bonar.

“Seldom do they hunt near the house, but they may mistake you for a trespasser. There are many who would be quick to champion me with little provocation,” Nikolaos said with carefully chosen words. “In time they will know you as they know me, and then you will have little to fear.”

Bonar nodded his head. At the same moment, the stag again butted Nikolaos. Nikolaos laughed, the joyous sound he possessed in endless abundance. He left off petting the reindeer, and the stag then turned to one side. Nikolaos leapt onto the back of the animal in an impressively agile and lithe movement. Whatever the age may appear on the surface, he harbored a profoundly youthful vitality. Once seated, the reindeer began to trot. Nikolaos raised his hands to his mouth.

“Ho! Ho! Ho!” He loudly called. “Ho! South Wind! Ho!”

Trees began to stir. The few shoots of new grass started to sway. The warm wind gradually increased, and it swirled around everything. Bonar felt it come to life and press against his legs, but became entranced by the spectacular sight of the reindeer bearing Nikolaos rising into the air. The stag nickered and whistled happily. They rapidly ascended.

“On the morrow, Bonar!” Nikolaos shouted with a wave of his hand.

Bonar remained rooted in place until man and beast completely disappeared from view high in the sky. Once alone, the enormity of the situation struck Bonar. He witnessed what could only be called a miracle, and yet it seemed so commonplace for Nikolaos. It dawned on him he spent several months with the man and, in doing so, knew a peace he thought lost to him forever. Bonar finally turned and began to return to the house, bearing fully in mind the warning Nikolaos gave. As he approached the well-hidden home, a sense of guilt started to grow in the young man. Nikolaos never pressed Bonar for answers regarding the reasons why he traveled so far a-field from Avignon. Fear, not for what might be lurking about, gripped Bonar. He wondered how many seconds it would take Nikolaos to cast him from the magical home if and when he revealed the truth. Bonar hung his head and spent a lonely day wrapped in overly somber thoughts.

A deeply sullen Bonar loomed when the master returned to the home. Yet Nikolaos did not seem to take umbrage to the brooding and quiet demeanor. He greeted Bonar with the same joy he greeted each new day. It proved difficult for the young man to retain his glowering thoughts in the presence of Nikolaos. Before even the close of day Bonar all but forgot what troubled him. When the two sat happily engaged in carving toys that evening, the somberness of the previous night turned into a dim memory.

Bonar hummed while Nikolaos told him about the village and the generosity he found in the people. Evidence of the generosity could be found in the multitude of sacks strapped across the back of the great stag and the full larder when they stored the goods. Bonar heard in the tone of Nikolaos an abiding respect and felt a palpable love for the people the man encountered. He talked of the children, giving away small items, and his voice rang with joy. Bonar never once considered it odd that Nikolaos knew the names of each and every person. The words he spoke could barely contain of the history he understood about those he met the previous day. Bonar contentedly listened. When the night grew deep, and a generous amount of new toys sat stacked on the shelves, Bonar went to his chambers feeling light in spirit. The room sang him into his slumber.

Time passed around them and did not seem inclined to touch the home of Nikolaos. The new summer meant called for extended forays into the forest. Nikolaos displayed his wont as a veritable trove of knowledge concerning the plants in the forest. As they traveled about, stomping along in floppy boots that made Nikolaos even more mirthful, Bonar soon divined the purpose of the outings. The man constantly remarked about the colors of budding flowers, leaves, nuts, and roots. It did not take Bonar long to figure out Nikolaos surveyed the land so he would know the best source of dyes to make paints for the toys. Each time they ventured forth, Nikolaos would make it a point to introduce Bonar to the animals in the vicinity. Such introductions produced another occasion when Bonar became sharply aware Nikolaos behaved unlike any other human. The animals gave every indication they understood his words, and Nikolaos, in turn, appeared to understand their vocalizations. Bonar began to fully realize he found solace in a land of true wonder.

“The time is nearly upon us,” Nikolaos said to Bonar one evening over the meal following a daylong trip into the woods. “Full summer will be upon us quickly, but it will pass in a blink!”

Nikolaos winked as if to accentuate his point.

“We shall have to act with all haste, and our friends will be of great service,” he continued. “Were is not for you, mein helfer, I would fear there would not be enough days to do all that must be done.”

The simple statement made Bonar feel important. Moreover, it gave him a sense of place. Nikolaos, often effusive in his praise for Bonar’s efforts, seemed to be hinting at something more.

“When the North Wind decides it is time for his sister to depart, we will learn if your hand is as deft with brushes as it is with knives.”

Nikolaos confirmed what Bonar suspected all along: they would decorate the toys when winter chose to show its face. Bonar did not pay close attention to everything Nikolaos said, especially since the man would talk regardless of how much food he crammed in his mouth. Bonar heard bits and pieces of the plans being made to complete needed jobs. In the middle of the calculating, Bonar got caught up short by a single statement.

“I will tell you truthfully, Bonar,” Nikolaos said as he jammed a roll into his mouth. “God was generous in His blessing when He sent you to me.”

Bonar’s mouth suddenly went dry, and his appetite disappeared in an instant. The guilt long slumbering in his chest roared into renewed life. Not only did it survive, but it thrived. Bonar’s gaze lowered to his plate. Once more, fear rippled through him as to how Nikolaos would treat him once the truth became known.

“My child, have I profaned God before you?” Nikolaos asked with concern. “I merely meant to say you are a gift from God to me. He has provided for the children through you.”

Bonar’s lips moved without his intending it, and he said, “I am damned before the eyes of God.”

“Then you have redeemed yourself in all you have done here!” Nikolaos rejoined sternly. “The damned cannot see what the heart of a child desires. You have seen, and you cannot be damned.”

“I… am an abomination,” Bonar stated quietly.

“You are kind and gentle, and giving of yourself as few have ever done.”

Bonar did not believe the man.

“I tell you again you make pronouncements only God can make,” Nikolaos gently said. “None may know His mind, but all can see what He does through others.”

Bonar remained as still as a figure carved from wood.

“If you have sinned against man, then you have paid your penance tenfold, Bonar. By all that is holy…”

“I am not holy! I am damned! An abomination!” Bonar cried out, unable to deceive the goodness of Nikolaos for another moment. “I am unclean!”

“How can you judge yourself so?” Nikolaos inquired, his voice filled with hurt.

“Because I am. I have heard it read from the Holy Scripture what I am: abomination,” Bonar wept. “Pere Noel… I have tainted this place. You should have left me where I lay so that I would face God’s final and just wrath. You have only robbed Hell of me for a short while.”

“Hell cannot have what God has so finely wrought, my child,” Nikolaos fiercely and loudly said. “What have you done to ever make you believe God abandoned you?”

“I am corrupt. My eye… my heart… it turns… wrong.”

“I see no wrong in you, Bonar. I have seen countless scores of people, and I have seen true wrong. I have seen men who attend mass every day, thrice on Sabbath, tithing handsomely to the church, and still their hearts are black as pitch. They offend God in their pretense, saying the words but never believing. Their actions are a mockery of humility, and they care so little for their own souls that they care none for the souls of others. They have forfeited their place in Heaven because they have forfeited mankind for their own avarice!”

Bonar felt as though the room closed in around him. Nikolaos' voice grew powerful and terrible to hear. Fright suffused Bonar because he felt certain Nikolaos would turn that voice against him when the truth lay open and plain. Bonar cowered inside of himself.

“A man may take the life of another, the worst sin of all, and still enter the embrace of God if he humbles himself in true penitence,” Nikolaos said like thunder. “But none of this wickedness I have seen in you. Tell me, child, what sin have you committed that drives your soul to despair?”

“I…” Bonar found himself barely able to squeak, and yet he felt compelled to reveal all. “My heart turns toward other men.”

“But what sin have you committed?” Nikolaos asked a second time.

“I have laid with a man as a man would lie with a woman!” Bonar groaned in misery.

“I have yet to hear the sin to which you can claim guilt. Out with it, my son, confess to me your transgression so you may know peace!”

“I have known… would know again a man as I would a wife! My heart turns toward men with thoughts of love… sin of the flesh!” Bonar howled.

“And you would think yourself damned because you can love? My child, my son… God does not, He cannot hate those who love.”

“But the Bib…”

“Man can hear God,” Nikolaos quickly said, stopping the protest. “But man does not always listen. Poor child! God does not command us to hate or kill one another. Only man commands that, and it is far from the wisdom of God. We hear, but we do not always listen. Sometimes we hear wrong, and the mistake is taken for truth. It is not God’s truth you have been told, but only what man contrived to be taken as truth. Look within your heart, Bonar. Look there, and see that God gives you the power to love. If God commanded you to place your love in another man, then you cannot deny Him His will.”

“Pere Noel?” Bonar whispered the name in confusion.

“Look to your heart, and follow it. It is why God gave us one, so that we may see with other eyes when those in our head are blinded by foolishness,” Nikolaos chastened him with a grin.

“But you are a man of God, Pere Noel!”

“We… all of us… each man, woman, and child are creatures of God. He made us as it pleased Him, and none shall put asunder what God created,” Nikolaos declared. His voice rang like a clarion, though his volume did not increase.

“Per...” Bonar tried to say.

“Until I hear the voice of God come from your lips, I will hear no more of this, Bonar. You have lived too long under a cloud of guilt and shame of your own devising. I know now God you sent to me so I could see my duty clear,” Nikolaos told him with complete authority. “You have known from the first day the truth of my mission. This house rejoices that you came to us. You hear the song not every ear can hear, and you must listen to it. The only sin you can commit that would banish you from this realm is to withhold the love you possess. Even while you have labored under the burden of your self-pronounced damnation, your heart guided you to create gifts crafted from love. You are righteous before God, Bonar, and should you fail to see it… perhaps that is your sin.”

“Then I…”

“Shall go out in the morning with the stag and find the early roots I showed you,” Nikolaos said calmly with a twinkle in his eyes. “We need to let them dry if we are to get the correct tint from them. Pull them too soon, and the color will fade quickly. Pull them too late, and it will stain too light. Yes, I think tomorrow you shall gather the roots while I prepare the cellar.”

Bonar sat and stared at the man. Nikolaos went on talking at length about the summer roots and seeds needed to make the proper paints and stains. His laughter returned in short order, and the house came to life with his vibrancy. Bonar listened to carefully concocted plans, and a sense of urgency abounded. With a year just half over, still Nikolaos gave the impression time ran short. Bonar began to eat again. It was mechanical in affect since he attempted to take in all the instructions pouring from the man. Nikolaos told him repeatedly many tasks he, Bonar, would need to complete if the y hoped the eve before Christmas to be successful. As he listened, a new feeling began to grow in Bonar. Not only did he sense Nikolaos wanted him to remain, but Bonar felt needed by the man. In the privacy of his mind, Bonar offered thanks to God that one such as Nikolaos walked the earth.

The young man struggled to remove the weight he saddled onto his own shoulders. The growing number of tasks Nikolaos placed before him assisted the effort. His shoulders, not very wide in reality, could only accommodate so much responsibility. Something needed to be cast aside. As the weeks wore on, summer bloomed in haste. Bit by bit, Bonar forgot his guilt and shame. No place for it existed in the domain of Nikolaos. Work needed to be completed for children to awake on Christmas morning and not be disappointed. Bonar found renewed life as the world came into full flower around him. With the aid of Nikolaos' guidance, Bonar came to know the land surrounding the home as intimately as the one he left behind. It became his true home. Each night he heard the song more clearly. It made his heart swell and gave him strength. He saw his duty and place at the side of Nikolaos, Pere Noel: his father at heart and in spirit.

“Ho! Ho! Old Friend!” Nikolaos called out one blustery day.

Bonar paused and looked about. He saw no animals about whom he did not already know. He looked at Nikolaos. The man stood, face angled toward the sky, and he chuckled long and low. His brown flaxen shirt billowed in the breeze, as did his beard and hair.

“So you have come to bid your sister farewell,” Nikolaos said through a laugh. “I did not think you would arrive so soon.”

“Pere Noel?” Bonar questioned with the name.

“He returns: the North Wind.”

“Oh!”

Bonar felt a prickle against his neck. It held a slight chill, along with a nip that brought winter to mind. He suddenly sensed a difference in the air. It even smelled different to him. The sweet scent of summer flowers got mingled with the heady aroma of pine trees, but an altogether different scent crept in: snow from far away. Bonar breathed in the air. It felt alive to him. The branches of the trees swayed in the wind. Both Nikolaos and Bonar glanced around. The creak of the limbs sounded close to a voice Bonar understood, and he thought he heard them calling to the North Wind.

“Soon, my child, very soon. He is eager to return. Our time grows short,” Nikolaos said, the sunlight dancing in his eyes while his words danced on the breeze.

“All will be ready, Pere Noel. We will see to it,” Bonar encouragingly replied.

Nikolaos turned and glanced at him.

“Then you have chosen to stay?” The man quietly asked. Sunlight twinkled in his blue-gray eyes.

“I can think of no other place where I wish to be,” Bonar answered in earnest. “The children have need of you, Pere Noel. I could not sleep at night believing even one would wake on Christmas morning to find nothing. If I must miss sleep so that does not come to pass, then so be it!”

Nikolaos smile and said, “Do you see now that you are truly wanted?”

“What I would want… there is no importance in that, my father. I have known sadness, and still sometimes I remember it too well, and I would not have a single person live with it as I have. Even if it is only one day, one morning, there must be time for joy.”

“And the door of salvation opens before the heart that gives so freely.”

It stunned Bonar to see a tear sneak from the corner of one in Nikolaos' eyes and roll down the weather-browned face. He wondered what he said to bring sadness to the man. He felt ashamed for a moment.

“It is joy, child,” Nikolaos told him softly as though he knew Bonar’s thoughts. “I have been blessed in seeing you return to life. I weep because I am thankful.”

“Then I shall spend the rest of my days returning that thanks, father. You gave me hope when I could find none. You give all the world hope when it is darkest. I know my duty, and I will not turn away from it.”

Bonar lived up to his words. The moment in the woods when the North Wind returned wrought a change in everything around him. Nikolaos began to confide the powerful secrets of his ways to the young man. They worked in unison with a single mission in mind. Bonar learned the purpose for everything Nikolaos did while they collected flowers, moss, nuts, roots, and seeds. They gathered more wood to craft more toys. The shelves in the storerooms began to overflow with gifts. The summer quickly wore away as the South Wind prepared to depart.

When the first snows arrived, it initiated another change. Each afternoon got spent preparing the paints and tints for their creations. Bonar learned how to extract the simple yet exquisite pigments from the plants. He got taught how to mix them with egg, oils, and sap from trees. The house filled with a myriad of smells as they boiled and brewed the concoctions that would lend color to the dreary winter days. Throughout his tutelage with Nikolaos, Bonar began to appreciate that importance of some secrets over others. What he hid about himself from the legendary man for those many months paled in comparison to the new practices he learned.

Bonar gradually realized his worth as a person did not rest in the direction his loved traveled. Rather, his value revealed itself in how he treated every man and woman in both deed and thought. Bonar laid aside old grievances against his family for when they forced him from his home. He truly forgave them in his heart. Each act of contrition he begged from God, he extended to everyone in his mind. Because his soul knew peace and joy, Bonar discovered he laughed and smiled with greater ease.

“Ho! Ho! Such a mighty tempest our friend brews!” Nikolaos said one evening when three-quarters of a year lay behind them. “He frolics as though he were a new breeze!”

Bonar laughed. Outside the snug home the winds billowed and whipped the snow into a frenzied dance. Bonar heard the North Wind howl with delight as the lands all around got piled high with a new blanket of white. Inside the home, he and Nikolaos bent to their task. The time for carving passed, and now they adorned the toys in merry colors. They sat together at the wide dining table, seldom used at that point for eating, so to save their necks from getting cricked. A chandelier made from shed antlers hung above their heads and glowed with a multitude of candles. Spread out before them lay a veritable feast of paints, stains and toys.

“Father, have we made enough for the children?” Bonar inquired quietly while painting eyes on a duck he carved weeks before. He absentmindedly rubbed a stained hand on his stained shirt.

“Any more and we shall have to think over what age makes a child!” Nikolaos replied with a chuckle. “I shall be stooped for a seven-day come Christmas morning from this load!”

“Could you not take one of the stags with you?”

Nikolaos raised his head and stared at Bonar.

“Pere Noel?” Bonar asked nervously, fearing he said something untoward.

“Here I have spent untold years fretting over how I would carry and deliver all the toys,” Nikolaos rejoined with a grin, “and from the mouth of a child comes the answer I have never seen! How clever of you, mein helfer!”

Bonar felt relieved. Nikolaos snickered.

“Such wonders as can only be seen by new eyes,” the man said after a short while.

Bonar grinned at the statement. He saw through eyes unclouded by guilt or remorse over his circumstances. God chose to make him in a specific manner, and Bonar accepted he could not doubt the divine wisdom. He increasingly viewed the world not through what he thought, but through his feelings. While others might consider his days of labor a backbreaking chore, Bonar believed he lived the best of all lives. His life centered on the sole idea that everything he did with Nikolaos would benefit of the world. The mass of humanity needed the hope that Pere Noel provided, and Nikolaos accepted Bonar’s assistance with unbridled gladness. Because they saw their duty with clear eyes and mind, Nikolaos and Bonar never tired in their task. In truth their work never became a chore.

“Perhaps I should ask the great white bear,” Nikolaos mused. Bonar glanced at him in surprise. “He is strong and stout.”

“And has no love for the North Wind,” Bonar reminded him.

“Ah, so true,” the man replied through a chuckle.

“The North Wind thinks the bear fat and lazy. You would spend all your time quelling their quarrels.”

“Oh, ho! But think of the ride!”

Nikolaos burst into a gale of laughter. It became too infectious, the mere idea too ridiculous, and Bonar joined right in. The house filled with their mirth, glowing in response while the North Wind ran amok across the forests and tundra. With such happiness as to be found suffusing all, it seemed a little wonder the toys sparkled like jewels. On and on through the night they worked. Nikolaos delighted in a fantastic jest dreaming up a vision of him riding aback the great white bear and the protests of the North Wind. Bonar pictured it in his mind, and he chuckled merrily. Bonar wondered aloud how the children would react if they spied Pere Noel trouncing through the sky on a surly beast, being buffeted about by a chagrined wind. Nikolaos nearly split his seams at the side from laughter as Bonar detailed the image. They worked late into the night and made a grand time of it.

The North Wind appeared peevish for reasons even Nikolaos could not discern. Despite his powers, which grew in strength each passing day as they neared the holy day, both Nikolaos and Bonar found themselves unable to venture out of the house. It took five days before the North Wind spent his energies. It seemed miraculous to both Nikolaos and Bonar when a timid sun crept along the horizon. With the full onset of winter fast approaching, the sun seemed less inclined to climb high into the frigid sky. The days were shorter than the nights by half as much.

Nikolaos began to fret over the amount left to complete and the little time left to them. Bonar remained confident every detail would be attended to before Christmas Eve arrived. When at last they could venture outside of the house, after removing a veritable mountain of snow from before their door, Bonar kept one goal in mind. He took stock of the stores of toys during their confinement. What began as a simple idea blossomed into a compelling need. When he at last freed himself from the house, Bonar struck out for the forest proper, wading waist deep through the thick covering of snow. The North Wind outdid itself, indeed.

“It is but one night,” Bonar found himself pleading his case to the great stag some while later. “He is but one man, and there are so many that look to him for comfort and hope.”

The reindeer stag warily eyed him.

“I ask this neither for myself or Pere Noel,” he continued. “Yours is a great heart. You are mighty and proud. I know you do not favor mankind because he is cruel to you and your kin, but shall man ever learn if we do not show the first kindness?”

Bonar decided to be forthright and honest with the magnificent creature. He did not want the stag to think he got tricked through praise. The reindeer answered Bonar’s call as readily as he did for Nikolaos, but the animal nearly departed immediately when Bonar made his request. The discussion carried on for some time, and the human’s hope almost began to falter. The stag appeared solidly opposed to the idea. only one approach remained for Bonar to attempt.

“If you hold Pere Noel as dearly as he holds you, then I beg you to consider this. He will not take from you any service you do not freely give. The world grows larger, and he is only one man. Had I the power Pere Noel possesses, I would carry him myself to every rooftop. Yet I do not, and this is why I beseech you, great stag,” Bonar said quietly, fearing his words fell on deaf ears.

The stag regarded him with a large, brown eye. Bonar could not discern if his appeal produced any effect. Several moments passed, and neither man nor beast moved. Finally, the stag lowered its head. It turned slowly around, and trotted away. Bonar wanted to be angry at the animal, but he could not. The reindeer feared man, and with good reason. His kind got enslaved and hunted until only the herds that kept to the far north remained free. Bonar understood he asked the stag to place himself in direct contact with the world of man, and it unsettled the animal. When Bonar stood alone, he turned and began the long trek to the house. Nikolaos never gave him the responsibility to make the request, but Bonar felt as though he failed the man who took him into heart and home. The young man wended his dejected way through the drifts. He would not tell Nikolaos what he attempted. He did not want to see the look of sorrow upon the wise face.

Nikolaos did not give Bonar any time to dwell upon his failure. Toys needed painting and plans required completion. The final preparations compelled a monumental effort. Nature made the nights longer, and the two worked steadily through them. Sleep became a rare commodity as they raced against the passage of days to complete their task. At times one or both of them would nod off to sleep in the middle of a brush stroke. Bonar’s clothes became coated with spots of color. He never once thought of his appearance, and failed to recognize that Nikolaos' untidy aspect mirrored his own. They became as brightly and gaily colored as their wares.

For all that they toiled much and ate or slept little, they did not tire from the duty. Each time Bonar delivered a fresh load of newly painted toys to a storeroom, the sight renewed his energy. They made considerable progress in the weeks leading up to the eve before Christmas, and a simply tally told Bonar they would reach their mark if just barely. He informed Nikolaos of this on a daily, sometimes hourly, basis. In the back of his mind, Bonar continued to worry about the toll such an enormous delivery would take on Nikolaos. He wished repeatedly that the stag agreed to the request.

“You’ve a keen mind for this, Bonar,” Nikolaos told him the day before Christmas Eve while standing in a storeroom after unloading the final batch of toys on a shelf to dry. “I can see the arrangement, and it will make packing go swiftly.”

“This was not planned, Pere Noel,” Bonar replied, glancing about the room. “I merely found any free space I could.”

“Then I bow to your instincts.”

Nikolaos did bow. Bonar chuckled. Nikolaos righted himself, laughing as well.

“Yes, I can see how this is arranged. It is like a map of my travels, my child. You have done very well, for your heart guided your hand,” Nikolaos said with a gleam in his spirited eyes. “What a gift God made to me when He brought you here!”

Bonar’s cheeks grew pink under his sun and weather-tanned skin. He long gave up on the notion he roamed the earth an abomination or damned person, yet the praise Nikolaos heaped upon his head ran headlong into his humility. Bonar only did what he knew needed to be done. He did not require compliments to reward him. The idea children would awake two days hence, filled with anticipation and glee, bestowed in him a perpetual warmth. He labored so others might smile when all else seemed forlorn. Yet the notion still nagged Bonar that Nikolaos would set out on foot, but he kept his worry secret.

“Tonight we feast, for tomorrow we load the sacks. It will be a long day, mein helfer.”

Of that there could be no doubt. They departed the storeroom, and headed straight away for the kitchen. The table sat cluttered with their final painting, so they took their meal in the sitting room before the wide, low hearth that spanned the wall. A cheery blaze crackled while they supped. Although not fancy fare even by their meager standards, it proved filling and hearty. At long last, Bonar allowed himself to feel tired. The weariness in his body seemed trivial compared to the accomplishments. He lived a most unique year, and he gave thanks to God while he dined. Nikolaos ate while wrapped in thought as well.

The fabled man stared into the fire while he contemplated the best route to take to deliver the toys. The world he needed to visit grew larger, and he began to wonder if he possessed the stamina for the task. God granted him incredible powers, but each year seemed to bring more need. Without the aid of Bonar, Nikolaos felt quite certain he could only promise a paltry Christmas for everyone. He marveled at the transformation of the young man. God, he realized, tested Bonar for a very specific reason. The anguish, grief, sadness, and suffering he endured honed his heart so that it acted with purity. Nikolaos could not fully imagine how his foundling came through his ordeals without being steeped in bitterness. Bonar became an example for Nikolaos as the young man grew into the embodiment of all the reasons he first set out on his mission. Bonar represented every child in need.

“I will tell you this plainly, my son,” Nikolaos said gently. “It has been Christmas morn for me each day since you first arrived. Once I knew my purpose and understood what God set before me, I never once felt truly lonely, but I do not think I could be alone any longer.”

“I owe my life to you, Pere Noel,” Bonar replied with pure emotion.

“You owe me nothing, child, for you repaid any debt tenfold. This will be a Christmas to remember for everyone. There are toys the likes of which I have never crafted, and they came from your heart. All of them will be wanted, and all of them will be loved. You have done a great deed, Bonar, mein helfer.”

Bonar swallowed hard against the constriction in his throat. Much existed in his heart and mind he wanted to say to Nikolaos, but his voice failed him. He also doubted he could find the words to express what bloomed within his chest.

“A babe is born, but the person is made through the heart. In all I have seen you do, you have remained true. This home is yours as it is mine. Stay with me, Bonar. Do not break my heart. Do not break the heart of this house. You are wanted. You are needed. You are loved.”

Where words failed, actions spoke. Bonar dropped his bowl and flung himself at Nikolaos. He embraced the man with all the strength in his body and soul. Nikolaos returned the embrace, and kissed the young man on the cheek. It came as an expression of love from a father to a son. Bonar became dear to Nikolaos in more ways than could be counted. Nikolaos wept with a new joy. It seemed certain Bonar would remain, as though God ordained it.

“Merry Christmas, Papa,” Bonar said through a sob of irrepressible happiness.

“Merry Christmas, my son,” Nikolaos said, and sniffled. “Peace on Earth. Good will to all!”

They held the embrace for a long while. The house sang around them in riotous glee. The North Wind added voice to the song. Bonar knew himself to be home. He found salvation through the care and love of a person loved the world over. Bonar felt God move through him, and God seemed happy. Christmas already begun in the home nestled in a thicket of pines, and it would spread out. Nikolaos began to hum a tune while he rocked the young man held fast in his arms. Although nearly a full-grown man, Nikolaos felt Bonar to be his child. God, he knew, delivered a very special gift to him.

The celebration of their union as family could not last the night. With so much work to be completed the following day, Nikolaos finally ushered them to bed. As on the first night of Bonar’s arrival, he tucked the young man into bed and kissed him on the forehead. When Nikolaos left after a long radiant and thoughtful gaze, the room embraced Bonar in its own fashion. It lulled the young man to sleep with a gentle song. He felt safe and secure, and assured he truly found a place that wanted him. He dreamed of the sky and the sun that night, bright and warm upon his face. Happiness filled his being.

“Pere Noel, you let me sleep too long,” Bonar lightly chastised the man when he awoke that morning and strolled into the kitchen.

“There are hours before the noontime, and no harm was done,” Nikolaos said with a chuckle. “You will need that rest more than you know. I must be away when the last light fades if I am to make all the deliveries.”

Bonar felt annoyed yet again with the reindeer stag, but forgiving at the same instant.

“Break your fast, my child, and then we will see to the packing,” Nikolaos told him with a grin.

Bonar did as he was asked while Nikolaos trotted off to another part of the house. His ate a light meal, yet it nourished. Eagerness to set about making the last preparations bubbled through him. The thought just crossed his mind when the man returned laden with several study sacks. The tops of each cinched with a golden rope that sparkled in the light. Bonar began to estimate the number of times he would have to fill each one before Nikolaos had completed his mission. The younger man set down his bowl and followed Nikolaos to the farthest storeroom. Nikolaos unceremoniously let the sacks fall to the floor. He then kicked all save one out into the hall. He presented it Bonar with a sly grin.

“Now we shall see how well you have arranged the toys!”

With that Nikolaos grabbed the sack on the floor, shook it open so a wide mouth appeared, and started to grab toys from the shelf. Bonar watched for a short while. Nikolaos did not seem to be placing the items in the bag in any special manner. One by one toys disappeared from the shelves. It took more than a few moments before Bonar realized that sack should be full, but Nikolaos continued to deposit more toys into it.

“It is as I thought,” Nikolaos said, breaking Bonar’s trance. “This is the exact order I had planned to travel. Very clever of you, mein helfer.”

He continued to pull the toys from the shelves and stuff them into the bag. Bonar felt at a loss for words. Nikolaos seemed convinced he planned the placement, and Bonar knew it to be haphazard for the most part. Nikolaos winked at him while he worked.

“This is how I knew you belonged here,” the man told him as if confiding a great secret.

Bonar choked back a sudden surge of emotion. Since finding himself unable to speak, Bonar began to work. He carefully took a toy from the shelf and reached for the sack. He was about to place it inside when the gift flew from his fingers. It disappeared into the dark opening. The reaction stunned the young man, but then he thought of all the other miracles he witnessed. It seemed perfectly sensible the bags would aid Nikolaos in his duty. With the two of them working side-by-side, and Nikolaos singing jolly songs all the while, the room rapidly got stripped of toys. The man hefted the sack three times, and hummed in a pleased fashion.

“I believe there is yet room in this one,” he said jauntily.

Bonar trailed behind as Nikolaos trotted to another storeroom. As before, the family in spirit worked in unison. It hardly surprised Bonar at that point when the entire contents of the room found room within the bag. As before, Nikolaos jostled the sack three times.

“One more, me thinks,” he said and snickered.

On and on throughout the morning they traveled from room to room. Only when a third chamber sat empty did Nikolaos decided the time came for a new sack. That one held the contents of three storerooms as well. The hours sped by as thousands of toys flew into the sacks. Nikolaos laughed with delight, and complimented Bonar several times on the careful arrangement of the gifts. Bonar held his tongue time and again to keep from telling Nikolaos he never acted with a deliberate plan. When at long last the final storeroom became bereft of toys, looking lonely in its emptiness, Nikolaos hauled the sack to the immense sitting room and placed it with the six others. The two stood gazing at the collection.

“I think there is hardly space for one more,” Nikolaos said and whistled. “The time has come to make more for next year.”

Bonar stared at the amazing sacks. They bulged with toys. They cinched the ropes tight across the mouth so the contents would not spill. Bonar harbored one puzzle in his mind. He could not conceive of the manner Nikolaos would employ to carry the load in a single trip. A sidelong glance at Nikolaos asked the question.

“Ah! Have you forgotten there is one remaining?” Nikolaos asked him in response.

Bonar crinkled his face in confusion. Nikolaos pointed to the rack of pegs on the wall next to the hearth. There hung one last sack: the very one the man placed around Bonar’s shoulders the previous year. Although hanging in plain sight, it slipped from the young man’s memory. Bonar chuckled.

“That sack is as hungry as the white bear!”

Nikolaos waved his hand, and the bag flew to him. He passed it to Bonar, who pulled on the opening to reveal the large mouth. Nikolaos then bent, grabbed one of the filled toy bags, and carelessly flung it at the one in Bonar’s hands. It soared through the air, and sailed neatly into the large opening. It vanished into the gullet of the sack. Moments later, all seven lay concealed within. Bonar gaped in wonder when he hoisted the bag as he tugged on the golden rope. It weighed nothing in his hands. He began to wonder if the stag knew about the special sacks and understood Nikolaos would not be overly burdened. Bonar felt foolish for making the request to the stag.

“We have time for one last meal, and then I must be away. See how the sky is nearly dark?” Nikolaos informed him and pointed toward the small window on the door.

The sky steeped itself in a deep gray while the sun quickly retreated to the horizon. It turned into little more than a ruddy bump on the horizon during the winter months, so the sun did not travel far before it slipped from view. The newly anointed father and son made their own retreat to the kitchen. Nikolaos began to spoon out the remaining portion of the stew keeping warm on its hook hanging over the kitchen fireplace. It steamed and a wonderful aroma drifted through the kitchen. Nikolaos ate at the fastest pace Bonar ever witnessed. The tiny round windows in the kitchen revealed the night approached. The young man picked up the pace of his eating. He planned on cleaning the house while Nikolaos delivered the toys. They made quite a mess during the remaining days of their preparations. A sudden rattle of the front door drew their attention.

“It appears the North Wind is eager this year,” Nikolaos said, laughed, and set his bowl down on a short cabinet.

Bonar did likewise, and together they went to the sitting room. The door rattled again, and this time a scratching sound accompanied it. Nikolaos and Bonar glanced at each other. Nikolaos went to the door and pulled it open. On the other side stood the stag. Bonar’s heart leapt with joy and relief.

“Come to make early Christmas wishes?” Nikolaos asked as a greeting.

The stag grunted, stamped its feet, and whistled through its nose. Nikolaos nodded his head as he listened. He then craned it around and looked at Bonar.

“Did he now?”

The reindeer made more noises and pawed the frozen ground with a hoof.

“Wisdom does not always belong to the aged, my friend,” he told the stag, but his eyes remained fastened on Bonar. “And the first kindness is always handsomely rewarded, if I might say so.”

“Pere Noel, I did not mean to impose…” Bonar started to apologize.

“He comes of his own mind, and he offers willingly,” Nikolaos interrupted. “Although I have no doubt your words guided his decision. Again you have planned well for me, mein helfer. You are clever, indeed!”

Bonar never got a chance to explain and none seemed to be needed. Nikolaos held his arms wide from his sides. His hands twirled round three times. Robe, cap and sash flew from their place on the pegs and wrapped themselves about the man. The rich red material gleamed as if new. The white trim dazzled like starlight. Bonar could not recall how or when Nikolaos cleaned the garments. For all he could remember, they hung on the pegs throughout the year. With his vestments on, Nikolaos presented a towering figure. An intense sense of power flowed out from him. The man stood in his element with his duty waiting. All the powers granted to him shone in full force. Nikolaos assumed his complete majesty. There before Bonar awaited Pere Noel, Father Christmas: the man who would one day come to be called Santa Claus. Bonar felt tears running down his face as he gazed upon the radiant figure. He stared at all the hopes of children the world over. The spirit of hope for mankind took the form of a single man. Bonar gaped in awe.

“I am away!” Nikolaos said gaily and loudly, and snatched up the carry sack. He stepped from the house and vaulted onto the back of the stag in a single motion. “Ho! Ho! Ho!”

The snow rose up in a flurry before the salutation stopped echoing.

“Ho! North Wind! Ho!” Nikolaos continued the traditional greeting.

The man dressed in red sitting astride the stag rose swiftly into the air. Bonar ran to the door to watch the departure. Even without the moon or the stars to shed light, Nikolaos blazed like a beacon in the darkness. The child inside Bonar burst with delight at the sight. Pere Noel began to deliver Christmas.

“Peace on Earth! Good will to all!” Bonar heard him cry as the glowing red figure soared from view.

“Peace to you, Pere Noel. Merry Christmas, father,” Bonar said quietly as he closed the door.

That found cold and miserable one Christmas eve vanished, only to be replaced by life and love. Bonar stayed with Nikolaos. Time passed and barely seemed to touch them. The years passed as they worked together to fulfill the dreams of children in need. The reindeer stag gladly lent his back without fail, and also seemed oblivious to age. The North Wind came and went on its yearly journeys, but always remained at the ready for the call of Nikolaos. The duty of Nikolaos and Bonar grew steadily with the years.

Need compelled Bonar to join Pere Noel on his annual rounds. He wore a robe of forest green with matching hat and a red sash. The eyes through which he viewed the world became keen. He saw his fellow man advance slowly, sometimes too slowly for Bonar’s temperament, and this brought about more changes in the home of Nikolaos. Bonar never forgot the time he lived alone, frightened, and without hope. A man dropped out of the sky to give him purpose and a reason to find joy in life. Because Nikolaos trusted Bonar without question, and because he knew the purity of heart in the young man, he assented to special requests. In the passage of time, Nikolaos found himself less alone than he could ever dream.

Bonar could taste sadness on the winds at times, and he it drew him. He knew the source as he knew himself. Nikolaos never questioned Bonar when he would appear with a foundling at his side. They possessed heart and room enough in the home to care for those young people of the world who got undeservedly cast aside for one reason or another. Bonar followed his heart, and looked into the hearts of those he happened upon. Not every wayward child traveled to the distant, far northern climes. Some would be graced with words of encouragement from Bonar, for sometimes it proved the only gift needed. The rare few would go with Nikolaos and Bonar, and join the growing family. They would care for one another with gentleness and good humor.

With such assistance at hand, Nikolaos could visit more of the world. Legions of children came to know him, and they applied many names to him. The reindeer stag that first aided Nikolaos saw the need as well. The stag came to be called Danzleikr for the manner in which he rode upon the North Wind when Nikolaos called it forth. Danzleikr’s eye and heart grew keen from his association with The Kringla, and he selected from his kind others to assist with the mission. Eight in all became loyal and steadfast in the service of Nikolaos. Every so often a ninth reindeer, who radiated with a bold and fiery heart, got called upon periodically when the North Wind became too full of itself and made travel treacherous. As the decades passed, the legend too root around the seeds of the truth.

While the gift of children, family and friends renewed Nikolaos each moment of his life, he – the giver of gifts personified – received a most special one from the children to which he became a father.

“Ah! Meine helfer!” Nikolaos cried to the small throng when presented with a carefully built large sled, crafted in secret by his foundlings with a tremendous amount of love.

“For you, Papa, so you do not miss out on Christmas yourself,” Bonar told him, beaming with unquenchable affection.

“Ah, my child… my children,” Nikolaos said and raised a hand to his chest. “Christmas is kept here… and see how it shines!”

Whether his father spoke of his heart or the sleigh did not matter. Bonar got caught up in the rapture of the moment. It came on Christmas Eve, and they all piled high the sacks filled with toys onto the new sleigh. The select reindeer trotted up to be harnessed without a single grumble from them. Danzleikr took his place at the front, eager to discover how the North Wind would treat the new conveyance. The North Wind blew with a gusty might, and the breeze grew like the laughter of a child discovering a new toy. Nikolaos climbed aboard the sleigh still in wonder at the gift his children made. He called to Bonar to join along. The two men, one in red and the other in green, held on tightly when Nikolaos bade the North Wind to carry them aloft. The reindeer nickered and whistled as they raced in the front, delighting in their mission. The mass of children, young and older, shouted from below with enthusiastic glee. The sleigh sailed across the sky, across the face of the moon, and arched high overhead. No distance great enough existed to mute one voice.

“Peace on Earth! Good will to all!” Nikolaos called out in with pure joy.

Together with Bonar, the North Wind, the reindeer, and a shining new sleigh, Nikolaos set out yet again to make wishes come true.


End file.
